O Tannenbaum
by ClearingSky
Summary: A Christmas tree becomes a Christmas miracle of healing for one particular fire captain at Station 51. T for content.


**O Tannenbaum**

by ClearingSky

A Christmas tree becomes a Christmas miracle of healing for one particular fire captain at Station 51. T for content.

 _This is my personal tribute to actor Joe Maross. Happy Holidays, all! And Happy New Year!_

[ _posted 12/20/17_ ]

* * *

Captain Stanley languidly pulled his car in to Station 51 and found a parking spot amidst the row of C-shift's silent vehicles. Stanley got out of his car, grabbed his backpack and hunched his shoulders against the mid-December chill. The bay doors were closed so Stanley headed for the back kitchen door and the cozy warmth of the station within until his softly crunching footsteps slowly performed a tight 180 and shuffled to a whispery, gravelly stop. Widened eyes soon narrowed at the sheer amount of hose line piled in a heap at the bottom of the hose tower. From his quick visual inspection, he estimated several hundred feet of hose line in that pile. A mix of compassion and puzzlement washed through the lanky fire captain. _What in blazes was C-shift doing yesterday?_ Brows furrowed, Stanley started up again toward the kitchen, shaking his head and wondering whether the hose tower offering was the result of a Hookrader cleaning fit or one helluva run.

Hank grabbed the kitchen doorknob, but stepped back, startled, as the door suddenly swung open and a grimy and disheveled Garrison Dietrich, C-shift's giant bulk of an engineer, nearly collided into him with a trash can heaped with trash. "Sorry, Cap. Mornin', Cap," Dietrich hoarsely greeted, clearing his throat without much success.

The stunned A-shift captain moved aside to allow engineer and over-full trash can out the door. Smoke and sweat reeked from Dietrich's mustachioed form. "You guys just get back?" Stanley asked.

Dietrich held the smaller trash bin over the maw of the main trash can, shaking it to ensure every bit was emptied out. He began to cough and he merely shook his head at Stanley.

Dietrich replaced the trash can lid and Stanley held the door open for him and the two entered the kitchen. The strong aroma of coffee hit the A-shift captain almost physically and his puzzlement returned. The place smelled like a coffee bar.

He glanced across the dayroom to the station Christmas tree standing tall and proud at the other end of the couch. It was a good tree, tall and strong yet it looked a little forlorn what with the few ornaments any of them had had time to place on it and he wondered whether the tree was internally screaming at the "smog" of coffee odor.

"Thanks, Cap," Dietrich managed to squeak out in between coughs as he placed the trash can back under the sink.

Stanley closed the door and held his hands out at the large engineer, "What, no rhymes, Dee?" he sounded hurt. Garrison Dietrich had a penchant for rhyming just about everything which generally drove Captain Hookrader to distraction. Stanley briefly wondered how Dietrich's log reports will look when he someday makes captain.

Dietrich erupted into another coughing fit and he could only shake his head at Stanley.

C-shift's paramedics and fireman Gavin Platko morosely trudged through the swing door into the kitchen, all of them mirroring Dietrich: grimy, unkempt, still sporting their bunkers and trailing pungent odors of sweat and smoke. They nodded and muttered a weary chorus of 'Hi, Cap' before checking the status of the coffee. "You guys going on a run today, Cap?" paramedic Charlie Dwyer asked Stanley.

"Uh, yeah. Probably. Why?"

"You'll need to pick up more coffee. We've about taken the last of it."

An exclamation point of surprise flashed through Hank's mind for a moment. _Already? That was quick; we bought a new can just the other day..._ "Thanks, Dwyer. Will do." A glance at the clock alerted him to the imminent arrival of his own crew and Stanley started for the lockers. "You guys take it easy," he said in farewell and stepped through the swing door into the apparatus bay. Captain Stanley had noted the Engine's absence when he'd stolen a quick glance into the bay when the C-shift crew walked in. Now he saw why. Big Red was parked in the driveway with firemen Charlie Wilson washing her down. _Several hundred plus feet of hose piled near the hose tower yet the back doors were closed, so they clearly hadn't even begun to hang all that and then only now they're washing the rig…?_ _On top of that, Dietrich's penchant for rhyming even punctuation marks has gone missing while the rowdiest shift in the department is walkin' around with their tails between their legs. Maybe their irreverence went where the coffee went…_ Something was off about this scenario he'd walked into and nothing was pointing to it being 'good'.

Charlie Wilson came walking up toward him, wringing out a rag, the water raining noisily onto the concrete driveway apron. "Morning, Cap," he said, his voice mirroring the weariness of his posture. "Cap Hook is in the office."

"Thanks, Charlie." Stanley waved. He swam through the shampoo-fragrant steam that had wafted into the locker room from Dietrich's shower, stuffed his backpack in his locker, donned his uniform shirt, then headed to the captain's office. His shoes came to a stop with a _shhhp_ at the doorway at a disturbing sight.

Captain Hookrader, normally the vision of starched collars and hospital corners, was hunched at the desk, scribbling in the log book. Bunkers still on, his face and clothes covered in grime and the same smoke and sweat that permeated his crew emanated from him, too. "Gene?"

The disheveled C-shift fire captain slowly raised his head to see his counterpart and a mixture of untold fatigue and immeasurable relief washed over his haggard expression. But the heartbreak in his eyes remained as he slapped the pen down and leaned back in the chair with unmasked weariness, an arm dangling at his side. "Hank. Thank God." He coughed and cleared his throat.

"What'n the hell _happened_ to you guys? Your crew look like they ran a marathon. In their bunkers."

Hookrader grimaced and snorted in derision. "Almost."

"Brush fire?"

Hookrader shook his head. "Worse."

 _Worse?_ Stanley inwardly balked, unsure he really wanted to know the truth.

The C-shift captain planted a hand on the desk and leaned forward to rise out of the chair, but the energy ran out of him. He settled back with a sigh, slid his hand forward across the desk and wearily lifted his index finger and pointed to the storage closet. "Grab the map, will you?" he directed the younger captain.

Stanley rifled through the closet. "County?"

"City."

Stanley found the map and set it on the desk in front of Hookrader as he unrolled it.

Hookrader glanced at it with a practiced eye and encircled with his finger a 5-block radius in a poor, working-class neighborhood northeast of them. "Five fires," the white-haired captain began in a weary tone edged with anger. "Five structure fires, Hank. Between one a.m. and four-thirty this morning. Two-alarms, all of 'em."

Hank Stanley stared at Hookrader with wide eyes. "Jesus _Christ_."

Hookrader leaned his elbows on the desk and put his face in his hands.

"Arson, obviously," Stanley said.

The elder captain nodded in his hands, rubbed his face, then settled his chin against his balled hands. "Yeah. Burglaries." The two men exchanged a knowing look. "All the…homes had recessed front doors or doorways that were hidden from the street. Police are investigating." Hookrader stole a glance up at Stanley then leaned back in the chair and sighed heavily. "Dammit, Hank. Less than two weeks before Christmas. These families don't have much to begin with. Then this… _creep_ comes along and steals everything they got right out from under them. As a parting gift, he torches the place."

Hank rubbed his brow and sighed. "To destroy evidence."

Hookrader huffed. "He set their homes on fire, Hank. While they were in it. While they were _sleeping_."

Hank closed his eyes. "Anyone...?"

"No. Everyone made it out," the senior captain breathed.

Hank breathed out and put his hand on the desk to keep from crumpling to his knees.

"He torched the Christmas trees, too, on top of setting fire to everything else. Kids were screaming, standing out on the lawn, in the street, in their pajamas. Merry Christmas," he spat.

Hank took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

"Thank God most of the homes weren't too badly damaged. To some degree, at least. Neighbors fought with their garden hoses; kept the fire down just enough till we got there." Captain Hookrader's eyes went distant. "Except for one family. They lost everything. Dwyer and Levin had to help get the family out. The…parents and their little girls. Young, little things; petrified out of their wits. Standing across the street just clinging to each other like they were drowning. The grandparents were huddled together, watching their lives go up in smoke; shivering in the cold wearing just the clothes on their backs. House is a total loss. It's a miracle they got out. Neighbors were screaming at 'em, pounding on the doors. They barely made it out. By the time we got there, there was nothing left to save. My God, Hank. I'll never forget the look on those little girls' faces."

"Gene," Hank gently called the senior captain's name.

Hookrader flicked a glance up at him. He rubbed his face, hoping Stanley wouldn't realize he was wiping the tears out of his eyes, too. "I called Linda. We decided to donate our tree to them. It's already decorated. Got the lights and the tinsel, the whole nine yards. Dwyer and Dietrich thought maybe all of us, all the stations that responded, we could pitch in and buy the families new trees and some gifts for the kids."

"That's a decent thing to do, Gene. We'd be glad to help," Hank replied, his voice thick with emotion.

"Yeah. Let's hope the police catch this schmuck before Christmas."

The sound of voices out in the apparatus bay and the guttural thrum of Big Red's engine starting cued Stanley to the arrival of his crew. It was time for C-shift to get some rest. He gently clapped Hookrader on the shoulder. "Go home. Get some sleep."

"Sleep," Hookrader echoed in derision. "We used up all the air tanks. Spent the rest of the morning filling them back up. My men have been awake since one this morning, Hank. Watching children screaming in their parents' arms in the middle of the street in the cold." Hookrader suddenly started as if struck by lightning and he nearly shot out of his seat. "Dammit, the hose lines. We laid out new line on the rig, but didn't have time to hang—"

"Gene! Go home," Hank encouraged in a soft voice, trying to yank Hookrader out of the nightmare they'd endured all night. "My crew will clean up. Take yours home."

* * *

 ** _Later that morning…_**

"Are you _kiddin'_ me?" Johnny Gage's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull as he sat on the backrest of the chair in the dayroom. " _Five_ house fires in _three_ _hours?_ "

Captain Stanley's eyebrows spiked in grim confirmation while he held the log book. "Yeah." He read the logbook. "Hookrader reported that the first call came in at 1:08. Followed by the second at 1:52, the third at 2:36. There was a gap of almost an hour and then the fourth alarm came in several blocks east at 3:33 then the fifth one at 4:19 as the arsonist made his way east through the neighborhood."

"Any injuries?" Roy DeSoto softly asked, his voice barely audible, arms folded.

Since he'd started at 51s, it'd taken some time for Captain Stanley to learn to read the even-keeled paramedic, but in time he came to realize that the quieter Roy got, the angrier he was. "According to Dwyer and Levin, there were some minor burns, cuts and scrapes and one case of smoke inhalation. But no serious injuries and no deaths."

"He set the Christmas trees on fire while the families were inside?" Chet reiterated from Captain Stanley's initial report during their morning roll call.

"Yeah. This is secondary, perhaps, in some cases, to setting a fire near the front door or to areas he had gotten into."

"To erase evidence," Mike Stoker surmised, arms folded, a finger on his lips.

"Madre de Dios," Marco muttered, his elbows on the table, his head against his hands. "To set someone's house on fire when you know there are children _sleeping_ …" He shook his head, blinking furiously and he rose from his chair to get some coffee.

"You said it, Marco," Chet agreed, his hands rifling through his curly hair as he stretched back.  
"Did the cops say that all of them were arson? Maybe the first one was just a short-circuit in the Christmas tree lights, or something," Johnny posited, trying to find a way around the horror of the reality.

"No. Police suspect arson in all cases, Johnny," Cap answered.

The junior paramedic shook his head, smoothly slipped off the chair and dragged himself over to the coffee.

"Can't imagine what it must've been like for C-shift last night. Five fires in three hours. Racing from fire to fire. Talk about no sleep," Marco offered as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Boy, no kidding," Johnny agreed, sipping at his newly-filled mug. "Huh. You think you're finished with one fire, the next thing you know, you're gettin' called to a new one."

"Dietrich told me they were having problems with some of the mains, too. Water pressure in the hydrants were pretty low," Stoker added.

The air of sadness already hovering in the room hung even lower amid the crew.

"I gotta say, C-shift looked awfully beat this morning," Chet said, rising from the table to sit on the couch and pet Henry. "I mean, Dee wasn't rhyming anything! How often does that happen?"

Roy was pouring himself another cup. "You know it's a bad run when Dee uses non-rhyming sentences."

Heads nodded and muttered agreements went around the table.

"Coupla the guys were saying that the kids were crying in the middle of the street, watching their homes go up in flames. Really got to 'em," Mike added.

"Captain Hookrader was pretty shaken up about the whole thing," Cap affirmed. "He and his wife are donating their Christmas tree to one of the families. C-shift also came up with the idea that we could all chip in to help the families get new trees and toys for the kids."

"That's a great idea, Cap," Roy agreed.

"Yeah. Sign me up," Marco lifted his mug.

There were nods all around the room.

"Okay," Captain Stanley confirmed. "I'll talk to B-shift when they come in in the morning."

"You know," Johnny began, "C-shift works Christmas Day."

The room seemed to stand still for a moment as that thought sank down uneasily into all of their minds.

"We oughta do some'in' for 'em," Stoker suggested.

"Hey, guys," Chet piped up, petting Henry's ear and looking at the 6' grand yet bare tree next to him. "I have an idea."

* * *

 ** _Several days later_ ….**

The outgoing crew of A-shift at Station 51 stood around the dayroom, flanking the incoming C-shift crew and their captain. C-shift looked a might better than the last time A-shift had seen them. Captain Hookrader had the starch back in his uniform shirt, again, and Dietrich, the engineer had even rhymed a sentence or two during the transition between shifts. But a pall remained over the C-shift crew over the five fires they had fought almost a week before; the normal rowdy nature was subdued and the spring was gone from their step. Captain Stanley hoped this 'event' would lighten their hearts a little.

Mike Stoker and Captain Hennessey of B-shift held the station's completely bare Christmas tree as they stood in the center of the gathering. Captain Stanley cleared his throat, signaling the start of the proceedings. "I want to thank Captain Hennessey for stopping by for this."

Hennessey wordlessly nodded.

"We know C-shift had a helluva night last week with that string of burglaries and arson fires. As you all know, Captain Hookrader and his wife selflessly donated their own Christmas tree to one of the families that lost everything and we thought that was a mighty decent thing to do." Captain Stanley cleared his throat, again. "So, Gene, on behalf of all of us on A- and B-shift and your guys, we'd like to present to you and Linda the station's tree to replace the one you folks donated. As Kelly pointed out – and this was his idea, by the way – none of us have had time to do much with it, so it comes ready-to-decorate."

Whistling and applause erupted from the men while Hookrader eyed the assemblage with narrowed eyes. But his shy expression and the emerging blush on his face belied the suspicion he was pretending to exude. Embarrassed, and trying to quash a threatening smile at the corners of his mouth, Hookrader slowly moved over to the tree where Stoker and Captain Hennessey ceremoniously handed it over to him. Hookrader cleared his throat and looked up at the tree as if examining it for the first time. "I, uh…I don't know what to say. This is…" he shook his head and took out a handkerchief from his pocket. "Linda will be pleased," he added in a wavering voice.

"Stoker's volunteered to drop it off at your place in his truck on his way home," Stanley said.

Hookrader shook his head as he looked at the young engineer. "Thank you, Mike. I appreciate that," he said. He looked back at the tree and then at the men. "But I'll tell you one thing - you're all a pain in the neck. Now quit being charitable and get to work."

The men laughed and milled around.

"Cap's new tree fills the place with glee," Dietrich chimed over the chatter of the transitioning crews.

"Oh, brother," Hookrader sighed. "Thanks a lot," he groused to Stanley and Hennessey.

"Least we could do, Gene," Hennessey patted Hookrader on the shoulder.

"Fine, since you're here, you can take my shift. I've got a tree to tend to."

"Nevermind. It's all taken care of," Hennessey assured him. He and Stanley laughed at the look of sheer disdain Hookrader threw at them.

* * *

 ** _Christmas Day…_**

A bleary-eyed Captain Stanley, his bunkers swishing as he walked, ran a hand through his hair as he sauntered across the bay to the dayroom in search of some morning coffee.

A uniformed Captain Hookrader intercepted him near the Squad. "Hank," he said by way of greeting.

"Morning, Gene. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. How was your shift?"

"Quiet." Which was somewhat far from the truth, but Stanley didn't want to give in to Hookrader's attempts at a distraction. Stanley leaned a hand against the Squad in a seemingly casual gesture as he scrutinized Hookrader with a captain's eye. "How're you holding up?"

Hookrader folded his arms and sighed. "Truth be told, Hank, I'm not looking forward to this shift in the least."

"Can't say as I blame you," Stanley commiserated. "If it's any consolation, there hasn't been another incident like those five fires since they happened."

"Any word, yet, from the police?"

"No, not yet. Maybe they'll have an update for you later today. Put this whole thing to rest."

"That'd be a welcome change from the pins and needles I've been sleeping on, lately. You look like you need some coffee and where the hell are my men?" Hookrader looked around as he started for the kitchen.

"Smelled like Stoker had started a pot—"

As if on cue, engineer Mike Stoker and Chet Kelly and Charlie Dwyer nearly ran out of the kitchen door toward Stanley and Hookrader.

"Cap. Caps," Stoker called. "You gotta come out front and see this."

"Open the bay doors," Hookrader ordered and Chet moved toward the door controls.

The front bay doors opened with a metallic rattling and rumbling to slowly reveal an unexpected sight.

The morning air was sunny, crisp and bright as the magic of Christmas permeated the air. Station 51s outgoing A-shift, stood quietly in front of the open apparatus bay of Station 51. Standing with them was an uncharacteristically silent incoming C-shift, all dumbstruck and amazed at the sight before them.

Fronting station 51 and amassed on the driveway apron in their Sunday best was an extended family. Young parents with two little girls, each of them squirming in their parents' arms. They were flanked by granparents, aunties, uncles and cousins.

Behind them, on the driveway, the sidewalk, the grass near the flagpole, were upwards of twenty people.

Two young men and an elder grandfather were front and center holding a Christmas tree, decorated to the nines with ribbon, tinsel, ornaments, and an angel at the top keeping watch over all.

Captain Hookrader, recognizing the family, slowly made his way through to stand in front of his men, bewildered at this spectacle.

Luis Ramirez, the young father, looked around at the full complement of firefighters before him and it brought the full weight of this moment bearing down on his heart.

The firefighters stood silent as he locked tear-filled eyes with the senior fire captain, "Captain Hookrader, we, my family here, are grateful to you, and to your men, for helping to save our homes, our family. We would not be here without you, your men. We are grateful, too, that y _ou_ , _you_ donated _your_ _Christmas tree._ " He took a deep, shuddering breath,"To _us._ And that _all of you_ pitched in to help replace what we'd lost." Ramirez sniffed. "You went above and beyond just putting out the fires and taking care of us. Of all of us. We cannot thank you enough. There are no words. So when we found out you were working on Christmas Day, we were sad you couldn't be with your own families. We didn't think that was right. Then we heard that the station gave _their_ tree to Captain Hookrader and now the _station_ has no tree," Luis gave a small laugh and several others in the crowd echoed him. "So…on behalf of our entire community," Luis gestured to the gathered throng, "our family would like to present you, Captain Hookrader and Station 51 with this Christmas tree that we all helped put together. And because you had to work today, Christmas Day, all of these people who have helped _us_ , our family, volunteered to make homemade Christmas dinner for you and your families. We've arranged to have them come and join you this evening so you can eat together. We hope you enjoy."

Applause and cheering erupted from the people gathered around. Captain Hookrader wrung his hands together as he looked around at the enthusiastic crowd. Blushing, Hookrader looked down at the ground before answering, "On behalf of the men of Station 51, I'm…at a complete loss what to say."

Laughter, laced with emotion, erupted from everyone.

"We are happy to accept this beautiful tree and the wonderful gift of your visit and the meal you wish to bestow upon us. Times like these humble us as firefighters and there is no better gift for us than to have a community like you. Thank you," Hookrader said.

"C'mon, let's get this tree inside and lit up," Captain Hennessey ordered.

Members of the community and the firefighters began to mingle on the driveway.

"Nicely said, Gene," Captain Stanley whispered in Gene's ear.

Hookrader turned and smiled. Then he spotted the two young girls he recognized from the home that had been completely destroyed. They were hiding behind their mother, their hair done up in tight cornrows finished with colorful beads at the ends, one of them with her finger in her mouth, looking at him, bashfully. He knelt down and held his arms out. With an encouraging nudge from Mom, the two girls ran to the senior fire captain. He scooped them up in his arms and squeezed them tightly, tears streaming unabashedly down his face.

The girls squirmed and giggled in Hookrader's arms. He kissed each of them on the cheek. "You're the best Christmas present I've ever gotten," he whispered to them before uttering a loud groan – making the girls giggle harder – as he stood up and he stepped over to the tree. "Did you do this yourself? It's a beautiful tree, just like you two."

"That's Collette," their mother pointed to the older of the girls. "And the other is Pauline."

Hookrader hefted the girls into a more comfortable position in his arms. "Collette and Pauline, huh? C'mon, let's get this tree situated and then you can help turn the lights on. You girls want to do that?"

Giggling and nodding in earnest, the girls were carried into the station house. Someone struck up "O Tannenbaum" while the firefighters and the families and community members carried the Christmas tree inside, and soon the apparatus bay was awash with caroling, laughing and merriment on a bright Christmas morning.

 _ **finis**_

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Aspects of this story were based on a real incident._


End file.
